Chapter 265: What is all this new drama

Sienna saw it in the faces before the Don had even finished.

Every boss at that table was looking at her now. Their eyes were bright and hungry. They were not looking at a girl. They were not even looking at a daughter. They were looking at a prize. The head of the Ivanou family was a thin girl on a staircase who did not know any of their names.

She can be bought. She can be married. She can be broken, or frightened, or used.

And if she dies, who gets it all?

The weapon had been set down in the middle of the room, and every man there was already wondering how to pick it up.

Kalisto’s smile had not changed. It had stiffened, as if someone had frozen it in place. His son had stopped tapping the table.

"To Katalia!" the Don cried. For a second, no one spoke. Then someone started to clap.

It was one pair of hands, slow and hard, from the far end of the table. Another joined it. A third. Then the whole hall was clapping, a rolling storm of applause under the crystal lights, because there was nothing else they could do. To sit still would have been an insult. To refuse would have been a declaration.

They stood from their chairs one by one and put their hands together, and every smile was a mask.

Kalisto clapped last. His hands barely touched.

Aliya, at the edge of the room, held her silver tray against her chest. She stared at Sienna in the white gown and the crown. Something moved across her face, quick and raw, and she looked down again before anyone could see it.

On the stairs, Sienna kept walking.

Down, down, past the clapping hands. A few of the younger men had stepped forward to see better. They were the young bachelors of the great families, with perfect suits and perfect hair, and they were not clapping with their faces closed. Their eyes were open. They saw her beauty, and they could not look away. They saw something else too.

A princess to win. And the whole empire with her. She felt every look. It crawled across her skin like insects.

At the foot of the stairs, the Don was waiting.

He had come down the length of the hall while they clapped, and now he stood on the last white step with his hand held out. His face was soft. His smile was proud. He looked like a father at a wedding. Viktor stood a few paces away, still as stone.

"Everyone is watching," the Don said, so quietly that only she could hear.

He knew her. He knew she would rather take Viktor’s hand than his. He had planned the whole evening around it. He put it in front of a hundred people, so that if she chose wrong, they would all see.

Sienna’s eyes moved to his hand.

If I refuse him, here, now, in front of every boss in the city, it will cut him. It will wound his pride. And a man like this does not forgive a wound.

It would not end well. Not for her. Not for Viktor. Least of all for Helena, who sat at the table with her fingers white around the stem of her glass.

She looked up.

Her mother was watching her from across the hall. She was not clapping. She was nodding, very small, again and again, her eyes wide and wet. Please, her eyes said. Please. Just this. Take his hand.

Sienna’s jaw tightened. She looked at Viktor. He met her eyes. For one moment, she saw all of it: the rage, the fear, the love, the promise. He gave her the smallest nod.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped back. He took one step away, into the crowd, and left the way clear. Sienna drew a breath.

She put her hand into the Don’s.

His fingers closed around hers, warm and dry. His smile grew. The applause rose higher, and someone cheered, and the music began again, brighter than before.

The Don turned her toward the hall, and they stood side by side before the crowd. Sienna lifted her chin.

She put a smile on her face. It was small and bright and cold. She held it there like a mask, and she leaned just close enough that only he could hear.

"Nice dinner party," she said sweetly. His hand tightened on hers.

"What is all this new drama?" Her smile did not move. "Making me the sole owner of everything. Aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do with it?" She tilted her head. "I could sell it all. I could give it away for free."

"Princess..."

"I don’t need your money." She said it gently, pleasantly, like someone mentioning the weather. Nobody who watched would have guessed she was saying anything but kind words.

The Don laughed. It was a low, warm, delighted sound. He squeezed her fingers and turned back to the room, still smiling.

And across the table, Kalisto set down his glass very slowly, and did not clap again. His smile had not fallen. It had only changed, slowly, from the inside, like a pond freezing over. The warmth drained out of his eyes. The lines around his mouth went flat. What was left was the same smile with nothing living behind it, and the men nearest him looked away from it.

"Yes," Don Konstantin said. He still held Sienna’s hand. He smiled at her, and it was warm, proud, and full of love.

"It is yours, princess. All of it. You can do whatever you want with it." He patted her fingers. "The papers will come tomorrow. You can sign them in the morning, over coffee."

"I don’t need..."

"And trust me." He leaned closer, lowering his voice like a man sharing a secret. "You will like the figures. They will surprise you but your mother and I will hold on to some business, I’m sure you have no interest in them."

"Not interested in any of them," Sienna said.

She did not say it rudely. She said it flatly, like someone refusing a dish at a table, and she saw something small flicker behind his eyes. It was not anger. It looked more like a man writing something down.

"We will see," he said.

"Konstantin." Kalisto had come up behind them. He moved slowly, leaning on his cane, and the crowd opened to let him through. Beside him walked a young man.

Sienna looked at him.

He was tall, taller than Viktor, and built like a man who trained every morning. He had a full dark beard, neatly cut, and long hair tied back behind his head. He wore a purple suit, the same deep color as his father’s, but on him it looked less like a color and more like a threat. His face was handsome in a hard, serious way. He did not smile. He looked at her the way a buyer looks at a horse.

"My son, Shemmel," Kalisto said pleasantly.

Shemmel gave a short nod. He did not say hello.

"Konstantin," Kalisto went on, "why don’t we leave the youngsters to get to know each other? They are the future, after all. The old men can talk."

Viktor moved at once.

He took two steps toward Sienna, and his hand was already reaching for hers. But Kalisto’s cane came up and rested lightly against his chest. It was only a stick of black wood, and it stopped him as if it were a gate.

"Not you, young man," Kalisto said. "You come with us."

"No."

"You are the commander of all the forces now." The old man’s smile was soft. "A great honor. And we have a great deal to talk about. There are things a man in your seat needs to know." His eyes slid over Viktor’s shoulder. "Don’t you think?"

It was not a request.

Around Viktor, the shapes of other men were closing in. A boss with a gold ring. A heavy man with a scar down his cheek. Two more in dark coats. They came quietly, one by one, and soon they stood in a ring with Viktor at the center and Kalisto at its edge.

Viktor did not have a choice. He knew it. If he fought, in this room, in front of all these men, the Don’s guards would move. They would have an excuse. And Sienna would be standing in the middle of it all with a crown on her head.

His eyes went to her. Hold on, they said. I will come. Then the ring turned, and he walked away.